‘Tis was a working weekend for me. The company had a fashion show/product launch/cocktail party.
Adamant that I am not going to waste more money by buying another frivolous frock, I wore my dress from my uni prom.
Felt like a blinking pork sausage the whole night.
Good thing it was an evening event and God bless scarves.
I had to PR the media and got to know a very pleasant Japanese editor. Okay, so he’s very cute. Very charming. Sweetheart material. He even taught Japanese in India before coming here to write. Of course I learnt all this in casual conversation. It was all work, you must understand.
Then I got high on three glasses of wine, and 2 gin cocktails before the fashion show started. Things started getting so much better after that.
Heck the products but I remember two male models on the catwalk. One looking like Brad Pitt and the other with a face like that squeaky clean mounty from the Canadian TV series Due South. Did I swoon? Yes. Did I grovel and beg to follow them home? No.
There was already a queue for that.
Not as disagreeable as I thought it would be. I was expecting to greet Kee Hua Chee. I think in my stupor, I may have found him interesting. Of course when sober, he scares the heck out of me.
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